Couldn't Help It
by miamijuggler
Summary: A series of moments from the lives of Pam Beesly and Jim Halpert that merit closer examination. My version of how our two favorite lovebirds from Dunder-Mifflin ended up together.
1. The Dundies

_Author's Note – _

So... here's another one of my pet projects. I may end up subjecting this to multiple rewrites, as I feel that this is still very rough at this point. As I add more chapters, I should get a better feel of where I'm going with this, and will be able to adjust from there. I'm also not happy with the title, so that may change (as it already has).

In short, I'm telling Pam and Jim's story and kind of filling in some of the gaps. I'm anticipating multiple shorter chapters, which is kind of in contrast to my previous work, but then again these things never work out the way I plan, anyway. I look to reviews and helpful readers to really tell me where my writing is successful, and where it needs more work. As this is my first "Office" fic, I've been having some trouble really finding a narrative voice, so hopefully that will work itself out over time.

Also, some of you may notice that this wasn't originally the first chapter. Like I said, "sequencing" and so on and so forth. Think of it as keeping you on your toes.

I'll end now, because it's late and I'm tired, and I want to post this before I go to bed. So as usual, without further ado… on with the show.

* * *

**- Couldn't Help It -  
**

Chapter One - The Dundies

--:--

"…aaand this next award is goin' out to our own little Pam Beesly," Michael continued, "I think we all know what award Pam is gonna be gettin' this year…"

Jim's mouth dropped open in stunned silence. He thought he had talked Michael out of the horrible "Longest Engagement" award. Michael was _never_ actually funny, but this crossed the line into just plain mean.

Jim was getting ready to be really angry when Michael continued, "… it is the _whitest sneakers_ award."

Glancing at Pam, Jim saw her face light up.

"Because she always has the whitest tennis shoes on!"

Relieved, he joined in the generous applause as Pam stumbled up to the microphone to give her acceptance speech. Jim had a bit of buzz going, but Pam had been knocking back drinks however she could, so he guessed that she had to be on the far side of a buzz, and well on her way to sloshed.

There was one thing she wasn't, though, and that was disappointed. The surprised elation was written all over her face.

Jim laughed in disbelief as she hammed up the microphone for her acceptance speech, this extroverted behavior so out of character for the soft-spoken receptionist. And after giving props to Michael and Dwight for hosting the evening, the _pièce de résistance_ was Pam's invocation of the Lord in the House of Chili's to conclude her acceptance.

With a final thunderous "Whooooo!" into the microphone, Pam handed the mic back to Michael and even gave him a quick hug. Jim got up to hold her chair for her as she bounded back off stage. Riding her high, she threw herself into his arms, laughing.

Still laughing, he suddenly felt her lips press against his.

Panicking, he extracted himself as quickly and delicately as he could, and sat her down before she teetered off her feet.

_Holy shit_, he thought to himself as he walked back around the table to his chair. It had suddenly become very difficult to think straight.

_Did everyone else just see that?_

He tried to think rationally about what had just happened, but it was hard to ignore the physical effect the kiss had on him. His blood was rushing in his ears, his heart pounding. He needed a moment to get himself under control before he could think about the possible consequences.

Pam was still giggling like an idiot, and hadn't seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Come to think of it, it seemed like the rest of the Dunder-Mifflinites had decided to ignore what they had seen (if anything), and just chalk it up to Pam's drunkenness.

Jim decided it was best to carry on as if everything was normal.

--:--

He stood outside the Chili's watching the taillights of Angela's car retreat into the night, his thoughts spinning. He'd had the last of his beer hours ago, so he couldn't blame the whirling feeling on alcohol. Glancing over, he realized that the cameras might catch him looking wistful for a moment too long, and turned to walk back to his car. Thankfully, the camera didn't follow him.

Slumping himself into the familiar driver's seat, he played the evening's events through his head as he started the car. Somehow appropriately, the radio cut into the first chorus of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer." All that was left inside him as he backed out of the parking space was the feeling of frustration with a slight tinge of guilt.

How long had it been now? Of course, he had realized the he liked Pam more or less from the first day he met her. And despite noticing the ring on her finger almost immediately, it quickly became difficult to avoid talking to her. She was smart, and fun, and could match him word for word in any verbal sparring contest. Their conversations, no matter how inane, always gave him a kind of rush, and he became addicted in no time.

But he knew that she was engaged, and had long ago settled on being her friend. And Pam was a terrific friend.

_… and her smile…_

Jim pulled that futile thought process to a halt as he wound his way through the late night streets of Scranton.

_But why the hell did she kiss me?_

Did that mean that _she_ felt something, too?

Hope leapt into his heart, and for a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the notion that there could be something between them. But then there was Roy to consider, and Jim knew that if anything were to happen between him and Pam, that it would have to be Pam who made that decision. He refused to be the homewrecker, or the "man on the side."

In this light, he figured that the best thing to do would be to consider the kiss as just a drunk Pam acting on impulse, and to not reading anything into it other than that. Or better yet, forget it ever happened. But he was still alarmed at the intensity of his own reaction to it. Actually, to tell the truth, it was a pretty crappy kiss; she pressed a little too hard at first, pinching his lips, and although it was a relatively chaste closed-mouth kiss, he could smell the strong heat of the alcohol on her.

Not what he'd had in mind.

_...and what _did_ you have in mind, Halpert?_, he chided himself.

But somehow the kiss (crappy as it may have been) just made him want her more. To give her a real one. Y'know, show her how it's done. And while he resented that part of him that entertained such sophomoric desires, he couldn't deny that he had stepped into the role of drunk-sitter a little too eagerly.

That same sophomoric part of his mind wanted to tell him that "drunk-sitter" was just a step away from "caretaker," which was just a step away from "provider." Of course it was bullshit, but he had willingly played the part, hadn't he?

He had played the part of the concerned friend, laughing and joking with her, making sure that she didn't make any more of a fool of herself than she already had that evening. The angel on his shoulder scolded him, saying that he was only doing it so that if she _did_ make any more of a fool of herself, she would do it with him. And that was wrong.

_I know. I know it's wrong._

But he couldn't stop himself, right up until the point where Angela pulled around in her car, and she'd said,

"Hey, um… can I ask you a question?"

And for a moment, as she looked at him, he had thought she was going to say something about the kiss. But then she had just said thanks. He had even opened the car door for her, still playing the part of the caretaker.

Something had bothered him about that exchange, and he couldn't figure out what it was. She wasn't that drunk anymore that she didn't know what she was saying. Did she want to say something about the kiss? And then couldn't for some reason? Yet another nagging feeling that there was more to Pam Beesly than she was letting on.

_Forget it, Jim, there's no hope down that road._

As he pulled into his driveway at home, he figured it was going to take a lot longer to get over her than he originally anticipated.


	2. Email Surveillance

- Chapter Two -

Email Surveillance

--:--

Pam sighed heavily as she pulled the truck to a stop at one of the longest traffic lights in town. A glance at the dashboard clock told her that it was thirty-seven minutes past midnight. She had stayed at Jim's barbecue longer than she had intended, and was not looking forward to explaining herself to Roy when she got home. But at least she'd still had fun, right?

Even though Michael had showed up (despite their best efforts), it was easy enough to hang out with Jim and the rest of the people who were interesting to talk to. And she had to admit to herself that Michael had surprised her a little with his karaoke performance; he wasn't as bad as she was expecting him to be. And even Dwight was more tolerable than usual. That was probably because she hadn't hung around Dwight for very long during the party. Actually, now that she thought about it, where _was_ he for the last few hours of the party? She only remembered him uttering a stiff and formal farewell, right before he left.

Whatever.

The traffic light winked green and she rumbled Roy's pickup truck through the intersection.

Pam was still annoyed with her eagerness for juicy gossip regarding Dwight and Angela. And she felt so stupid for being _so damn sure_ about it, too.

And she had thought for sure that Phyllis would have been a bigger help… instead of swiftly turning the tables on her.

Remembering her conversation with Phyllis brought back a smaller dose of the sudden rush of shame and guilt that had hit her full force. She couldn't help (and immediately regretted) the self-conscious glance at the camera, and the unbidden worry of how Roy would react.

_React to what?_, she chided herself suddenly, _I haven't done anything wrong… I mean, we're just friends._

No, she hadn't done anything wrong, but Pam knew that Roy would get jealous if he thought that there was anything going between her and Jim. And if Phyllis had thought that there was something between them, couldn't other people get that impression? Pam pushed the thought away from her tired mind, and tried to focus on the happier moments of the party. The image of Jim's yearbook photo floated back into her mind and she couldn't help but giggle a little, even now.

_Such a dweeb,_ she thought, mercilessly.

Jim's roommate seemed like a decent and responsible person, and she was happy that Jim didn't have deal with some of the nightmare roommates she'd heard about from friends. She had also been impressed with how well-kept the Halpert residence was. She had always pegged him as living in an almost frat-boyish mess, but as it stood, Jim's home was very similar to the way she herself kept house. Well, the way she would _like_ to keep house, if she didn't have to constantly work against Hurricane Roy.

And what annoyed her the most about Phyllis's implication was simply how _absolutely ridiculous_ it was.

Come on, her and Jim? That would be so…

Weird.

It would be weird.

_Really_ weird.

Wouldn't it?


	3. Booze Cruise

_- Chapter Three -_

_Booze Cruise_

"You guys," Katy said conspiratorially, "It's like we're in high school, and we're at the 'cool table'."

Roy chuckled and agreed, and rambled on about high school. And _then_ Katy launched into one of her old cheer routines. How embarrassing.

And he could see from looking across the table that Pam would never let him forget it. He tried his best to shoot her a look of unassailable bravado, but she saw right through him. Katy continued her cheer, and Pam bobbed her head in time, her eyes locked with his, mocking the redhead's enthusiasm and taking full advantage of Jim's shame. The dancing mischief in her eyes soon softened into a brilliant smile that Jim genuinely thought could end wars.

It was at that point that Michael decided to attempt the beginning of his presentation, mercifully ending Katy's cheer, but having the unfortunate side effect of separating Jim from Pam's smile.

Jim realized that he had never really felt comfortable at the cool kids' table.

And then Michael started dancing.

--:--

Jim wandered back to the "cool kids' table" clutching his only his second beer while Darryl, Roy, and the others had already been doing shots. Darryl gleefully anticipated his next shot of tequila when he heard Pam speak.

"Hey, why don't we find like a quieter place to hang out?" she asked Roy.

Jim couldn't help noticing that Roy avoided eye contact while he spluttered out some excuse about waiting for Darryl to do his shot. Without waiting for Pam to respond, he got up and went to cheer the demise of Darryl's liver.

Pam turned away with a look of exasperation on her face, and Jim managed to catch her eye. He gave her small smile and the tweak of an eyebrow, and gave a small nod to the front of the boat, indicating that she should follow him. He made sure to grab their coats before they went up to the top deck.

Once up there, he realized that the rush of the wind and the thrashing of the water against the hull weren't necessarily quieter than the party inside, but Pam seemed glad to be away from the "cool kids" for a bit.

"It's getting _kind of_ rowdy down there," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed, and mimicked the tribal chant: "Dar-ryl, Dar-ryl, Dar-ryl…"

He looked out over the water as she leaned back against the railing.

"Sometimes I just don't get Roy," she shook her head.

"Well,…"

"I mean,... I don't know,"

He saw the doubt in her face, and although he didn't know the gritty details of Pam's relationship, he couldn't help but think that Roy wasn't right for her.

She looked up at him, eager to change the subject.

"So," she smiled, the mischief again dancing in her eyes, "what's it like dating a cheerleader?"

He laughed as he tried to find the words to explain.

"Oh… umm, …"

He smirked at her, thinking, _You had to bring her up, didn't you?_

It became suddenly very clear to him that he didn't want to be with the cheerleader. He wanted to be with this one, right here, smiling in front of him, with the laughter and mischief in her eyes. And that the cheerleader was just an attempt to distract himself from how he really felt.

He sucked in breath and searched his mind for something to say, but the words weren't coming to him.

Suddenly, words _did_ come to him, but they were the wrong ones. Not the wrong ones for him, but wrong for Pam. He wanted so desperately to tell her how he felt, and how Roy was wrong for her, and… and so many other things. His easy smile vanished as the words flooded to the tip of his tongue.

He knew that he shouldn't, that it was the wrong thing to do. Pam was in a committed relationship, engaged even, and he had _no right_ to intrude on that. She was a big girl, and she would make her own decisions. Nor could he guarantee that his feelings would be reciprocated. And then what? Months of awkwardness and embarrassment everyday at the office? The loss of one of his best friends?

There was so much at stake.

But what of the tsunami of feelings and emotions that threatened to spill out of his mouth at any second?

Jim hesitated and looked into her eyes, hoping to see if they held anything but friendship for him.

She met his eyes and her mirth slowly faded; she could also feel the tension between them. He fought with everything he had to keep his big, dumb mouth shut. He fought for her sake, because he didn't want to spoil her evening, her relationship, her life. But how long could he put off his need to tell her? How long could he live this life?

And just when the first awkward phrases were ready to tumble from his lips, her eyes tore away from his.

Almost mercifully, she smiled again, shrugged sweetly, and said, "I'm cold."

With that she headed back downstairs.

Jim looked over the side railing, and briefly contemplated taking Captain Jack's safety exit over the side.

--:--

Jim looked down at his third beer, and tried to ignore Michael's spiel about the ship as an analogy for business. He didn't really want another beer. He wasn't really in the mood for drinking, but he didn't want to go back to the table and sit with Pam and Katy. Actually, after a moments consideration, he realized that he was still quite sober. Two beers in as many hours did nothing for him.

So here was beer number three, simply because there was nothing better to do on the Dunder-Mifflin team-building ship of futility.

"…office building's on fire," Jim heard Captain Jack say, "Jim, who would you save?"

The answer came to him so quickly that he almost physically flinched. He panned around, stalling for time while he thought up a decent response.

"Uh, the customer," he mumbled, "because the customer is king."

There was no trace of his usual conviction or humor behind his voice, and of course, none of the present company noticed. His frustration grew to epic proportions. How _dare_ the Universe ask him _that_ question, of _all _questions?

If the Universe wanted to play hardball, he would play hardball. He was gonna knock this one out of the park, and to hell with the consequences. He turned and strode towards where Pam was sitting with Katy.

Jim saw one of the cameras trained on him as he walked past. On impulse he spoke directly into it, not caring who overheard.

"You know what? I would save the receptionist," he said, already feeling a little lighter, "I just… wanted to clear that up."

This was it, do or die. Even if it was just to tell her that he, as a friend, genuinely thought that Roy was wrong for her. Walking up to her, he tried not to let his heart melt from another one of her famous smiles.

"Uh, hey Pam, can I—"

"Um, everybody, um…," came the voice over the loudspeaker, "could I, uh, have your attention for um, just a second,"

At first Jim didn't even really register that it was Roy at the microphone; tonight, he had bigger fish to fry, like altering the course of the entire Universe.

Roy rambled through his little speech, but Jim felt so empowered that he paid it no mind. It wasn't until the word "Pam" came out of Roy's mouth that Jim snapped out of it.

"I think enough is enough; I think we should set a date for our wedding," Roy slurred, "How 'bout June tenth?"

_No. _Jim's face fell._ God no. No no no no..._

Jim watched Pam join Roy on the dance floor, her face radiating with joy, and felt himself go numb. After a moment, he managed to remember to breathe.

_Of course,_ he thought, slumping into the seat where she had sat a few moments before, _Of fucking course._

--:--

Needing to separate himself from recent events, he found himself standing on the rear deck outside, with Katy (_oh for the love of God!)_ hanging on his arm. He stared through the window in the door at the happy couple who were swaying around the dance floor.

"Do you think that'll ever be us?" Katy crooned.

"No."

It was easy to say, and he didn't feel bad about it, even though he knew it was cruel and stony. It just… didn't matter at this point, did it?

"What is wrong with you? Why did you even bring me here tonight?" she demanded.

"I dunno," just as easy and numb, "Let's break up."

"Wh- What?"

He turned and looked at her, realizing that he should feel bad about what he was saying and doing. But it's easy to turn off a light bulb when the sun is in your face.

"I don't wanna do this anymore. We're done."

She slapped him once across the face, her fury evident in her eyes. He barely felt it. After staring at him a moment longer, she shook her head and stormed inside.

_What a fantastic night…_

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Okay, so I've decided to change the title. "PB&J," while I originally thought it was appropriate, I found out through my research that it was a bit too trite and common. So hopefully it won't be too catastrophic for the people that have been following the story sofar. The new title, "Couldn't Help It," is something I feel more conveys the theme that I'm trying to convey with this story, but I still consider it a working title. Nothing is final yet. I've also made some tweaks to this and the previous chapters, including formatting and so on.

I know it seems like I'm pandering for attention, but I could really use some constructive reviews on this one, guys. For some reason, this "Office" stuff is much more difficult for me to write than the fantasy stuff, and I'd really like your feedback to help improve it. Don't worry about hurting my feelings. I can take it, I promise.

Next chapter is under construction, and should hopefully be ready soon. See you then.


	4. The Secret

**- Chapter Four -**

**The Secret**

Michael was turned away from her, and his face was practically pressed up against the window facing the parking lot as she walked into his office. This late in the day, she steeled herself against Michael's infamous unpredictability, hoping that he wouldn't have another ridiculously inane task for her.

"Hey," she ventured, "here's your schedule for next week."

As he turned to face her she noticed that Michael appeared to be even more worked up than usual. He looked like he was about to cry, and was trying to regain his composure.

Against her better judgment she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Look…About you and Jim…"

She could see exactly where this was headed, and decided to try and divert it while she could. Things were awkward enough already.

"Oh no, that's… You don't have to…,"

"No, I just feel it's my responsibility as your boss-slash-friend – "

"No, it's- really, it's okay… um, I know that Jim had like, a crush on me when he first started, but that was a long time ago, so…," she hoped that would be enough to bring Michael to a halt.

Instead, he just gave her a look.

"It wasn't that long ago," he said earnestly, "It was on the booze cruise."

Wait… _what?_

"Jim had a _crush on me_ on the booze cruise, or he _told you_ about it on the booze cruise?"

"Ah-a-yyyoookay. Shhhhuut-it… Michael. I'm done. That's it. I'm out."

Much to Pam's amazement, the eternal blabbermouth Michael actually clammed up for once. He wouldn't say another word. Pam shuffled back to her desk in a daze, unsure of what to think.

Sitting down, she pretended to move stacks of paper from one place to another as she played back the conversation she'd had in the kitchen with Jim. She believed that the crush was a thing of the past, but going over it in her mind, she realized that Jim could just as easily have been putting on a show. After all, how many times had she watched him tell a blatant lie with a straight face while pulling a prank on Dwight? And why did she feel disappointed when he felt the need to reiterate that he was "totally over it?"

It would make sense, though, wouldn't it? Hadn't she been able to feel the tension on the booze cruise herself?

There had been a moment, when Jim took her up to the top deck to get her away from the pandemonium of the party, that Jim had looked at her. In fact, that was all he did. He had just… looked at her, but it seemed like he was trying to pry her apart with his eyes.

She remembered that she had just asked something about the cheerleader… what was her name? Katy. She had just asked him what it was like to date Katy. And he just kind of spaced out… and _looked_ at her. Looked _into_ her.

The look that was in his eyes somehow slid past all of her defenses, as if he was looking into the deepest, darkest corners of her mind. She simply couldn't deal with that level of examination. She remembered making up some excuse for being cold and escaped back downstairs, feeling guilty for leaving Jim up there on his own after he had made the effort to get her away from everyone else. But honestly, he had been creeping her out a bit.

She cleared the last stack of paper from her desk, and dropped it heavily next to the shredder. Thinking about it now, she wondered if he had been trying to say something. Tell her… well, tell her how he felt. She bit her lower lip as she stared blankly at her computer screen. What if what Michael had (almost) said was true?

She could hear the rest of the Dunder Mifflin staff gathering their belongings, eager to shuffle out the door at the end of another wonderful day at the office. Figuring that she should do the same, she reached for her purse and started to shut down her computer.

In a way, she thought as she slipped into her coat, it wasn't her problem. She was happily engaged, right? It didn't matter if he had a crush on–

"Ready?" Jim interrupted.

"Yeah,"

She watched him grab his coat from the rack and fold it over his arm. Pam found herself inspecting Jim as they walked out together. She tried to imagine what Jim would be like in a relationship. He was funny, and easy to talk to. She watched his back as he walked towards the elevators in front of her. His shoulders were slumped into that relaxed, lanky gait that was easy to recognize, even when she wasn't wearing her contacts. She kept sneaking peeks at him while they waited for the elevator. He had clean features, and moppish good looks, with hair that, even unkempt as it was, hung adorably low on his brow. He had deeply hooded, expressive eyes that were always ready with the next joke, and a smile that could always make her feel better.

As she got on the elevator, Pam had to admit to herself that Jim was quite a catch, and that many girls probably dreamed of being with a guy like Jim. It made her kind of sad to think that he might have a crush on her, when she was already in a committed relationship with Roy. She didn't want to keep Jim from being happy with anyone else. He would make any girl extremely happy.

It just couldn't be her.

After more than three years of engagement, Pam was sick of being engaged, and was getting impatient waiting for June tenth to arrive.

* * *

_Author's Note -_

Okay, so this one took a little longer to get through, because I've been trying to scrutinize my writing a bit more, and adhere to a higher standard of quality. Take from that what you will. Many thanks go out to my dear girlfriend for looking over my writing and taking it to the cleaners. Also, thanks to Mag68 for contributing useful suggestions. I can't always promise to incorporate every suggestion into the story, but I definitely keep them in mind moving forward.

Right, so time to start work on the next installment. See you all next time.


	5. Boys and Girls

_- Chapter Five -_

_Boys and Girls_

Jim thought it was cheesy that he noticed her the second she stepped through the door at the top of the warehouse stairs. Not that he minded, of course. She still had that nervous, excited smile on her face as she came down the staircase. Her eyes were scanning the wreckage littering the warehouse floor. She shot Jim a quick smile and wave as she continued her search, presumably for Roy. He waved back moment too late, feeling slightly foolish, and hoping no one else saw before turning back to the order list that he had convinced Darryl to let him help with.

Out of the corner of his eye, he tracked her movements as she found Roy wedged between two stacks of boxes, and although he couldn't hear their conversation, it was obvious that she was excitedly recounting the offer that Jan had made her about the internship in New York. Jim watched as Roy feigned interest, and Pam allowed herself to be taken in.

"Hang on," she said, loud enough so that he could hear and turning eagerly back towards the stairs, "let me get the brochure."

After a moment, Roy glanced around and trudged up the stairs after her.

When Roy came back a few minutes later, his face was blank, anxious to get back to work. Jim hoped that this didn't mean what he thought it meant. He set down his clipboard and asked if anyone else wanted coffee.

--:--

He found her sitting defeated at the kitchen table, studying her fingernails as if they held the key to the winning lottery numbers. She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile as he entered the room, and he knew instantly what the look on her face meant.

He took a deep breath.

"So you're not doin' it…,"

She stared at him as he reached for the coffee pot and a fresh mug.

"How'd you know?"

Didn't matter.

He shook his head, "Why not?"

"Just, like… no big reason. Just a bunch of little reasons," she was immediately on the defensive. This was not good.

He set the coffee pot down. Not good enough, Pam.

"C'mon," he looked her dead in the eye. She couldn't return the favor.

"Roy's right, there's no guarantee that it's gonna lead to anything, anyway,"

Jim threw back his head in exasperation.

"_Roy_ said that," he confirmed. It was dangerously close to telling her what he thought of Roy. (_Disabler_)

He looked at Pam again.

"What, you have something you wanna say?"

He did, but now was not the time or the place.

"You gotta take a chance on something sometime, Pam," he said, "I mean, do you _wanna_ be a receptionist here always?"

"Oh, _excuse_ me, I'm fine with my choices!" she snapped at him.

It was infuriating to watch her do this to herself.

"You are?" he challenged.

Her eyes flicked defiantly to her left and then back at his, "_Yeah._"

Jim stared at her openly for a moment, trying to keep from spilling his coffee. From years of social engineering he knew that nothing productive would come from continuing this conversation. He turned and left.

As he walked out the door, he couldn't help thinking about Pam's quick glance to her left as she responded to his challenge. Somewhere (probably from Dwight) he'd heard that subjects under interrogation tended to glance to their left as part of the mental processes involved in fabricating fictional information.

His heart sunk further as he tried to accept that there was nothing more that he could do at this point. He tried a sip of the coffee, perhaps that would help.

Unfortunately, the coffee was crap.

--:--

Four o' clock came around, and after watching Michael destroy just a little more of the warehouse, it was time to go back upstairs. Jim, in his frustration, thought that the best thing to do would be to bury himself in paperwork. Pam was deliberately ignoring him as he walked past her to his desk.

The paperwork was actually quite relaxing at this point, as thinking about his conversation with Pam just made him angry. He managed a good forty minutes of Zen paperwork before the ringing of the telephone brought Jim out of his trance. He looked over at her, almost involuntarily, and waited for his five favorite words.

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam,"

It was just so damn hard to stay mad at her.


	6. Drug Testing

_- Chapter Six -_

_Drug Testing_

Pam watched Dwight sulk out the front door, looking more depressed and self-loathing than she had ever seen him. What the hell was going on today? It was like Dwight was on more of a sociopathic roller coaster than usual (which she really hadn't thought was possible).

She almost got up to go ask Jim what was going on, because even if Jim didn't know, he was bound to make up something entertaining.

Then she remembered the jinx.

Jim was being infuriatingly good at maintaining radio silence, despite her constant attempts to break him. She hadn't anticipated him keeping his mouth shut for (she glanced at the clock) four and a half hours and counting.

The phone rang.

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam,"

"Hello, I'm uh, trying to reach Jim Halpert... this is Brenda," said the female voice on the other end of the phone.

"Um, hold please...,"

_Is it _that_ Brenda?,_ she thought as she jabbed the hold button and set the receiver down. Pam had heard rumors about Jim dating a Brenda, but she wasn't sure how serious it was. For some reason he never discussed things like that with her. That bothered her a little more than she was comfortable with.

"There's a 'Brenda' on the phone for you...,"

Jim just looked at her blankly, still refusing to give up the jinx.

The giddy high that she had been riding all day quickly faded, and the easy, weightless feeling that came from being "in" on this joke with Jim went with it. She didn't want to keep Jim from doing his job, or talking to his girlfriend, if that's who she was.

Quite suddenly, the jinx had stopped being fun. She missed him.

And at this point he was just being annoying, making her regret ever declaring the jinx in the first place. In a moment of spite, she decided to force his hand.

"Just one second, I'll transfer," she spoke into the phone.

Now he would _have_ to pick up the phone and talk to her, ending the jinx.

She punched Jim's extension and pretended not to pay attention as the phone on Jim's desk rang. Y'know, to give them privacy or whatever.

Instead, much to her surprise, Jim mutely watched his phone as it went to voicemail. Wow, he _really_ wasn't going to give up. She couldn't help but smile.

How _irritating_ was it that he could sit ten feet away, and still make her miss him. Grabbing her purse, she decided it was time to throw in the towel. She couldn't take this anymore.

She knew Jim was watching her from the corner of his eye as she got up, grabbed her jacket, and headed for the door, hoping that the convenience store at the end of the block would have sixteen-ounce cans of Coke.

--:--

On the walk to the convenience store, she began to regret putting Brenda's call through to Jim's extension. She realized how grateful she was to have Jim in the office, and lashing out like that wasn't fair to Jim. Really, this job wouldn't be bearable without him. He picked her up and made her smile whenever she was feeling down, and had bailed her out on more than one occasion when Creed was being creepy.

She worried about him sometimes, though. She didn't know how well he was dealing with her impending marriage to one Roy Anderson, but she figured it couldn't be easy. The conspicuously timed vacation to Australia basically confirmed to Pam that he did, in fact, have feelings for her, but it hadn't seemed to have had an effect on their friendship.

Suddenly, her lunchtime "conversation" with Jim came rushing back to her.

_You can tell me anything_, she had mocked him, knowing he would be unable to reply.

The words echoed in her mind. God, how could she have been so stupid? She knew when he didn't laugh with her that she had crossed a line. But she was just being friendly, right? They were friends, after all, and that clearly a normal conversation between friends.

Wasn't it?

She didn't want to lead him on, but that was exactly the problem. Where did being nice stop and flirting start?

_You can tell me anything._

And she hadn't even apologized. Drowning in the sea of awkwardness, she had just mumbled something about needing to answer the phones and returned to her desk, which she knew Jim wouldn't buy, but he couldn't (_wouldn't_) speak, so what did it matter?

That look that was in his eyes frightened her a little. The look that told her that Jim was completely vulnerable, completely open to her. Why had Roy never looked at her like that? Was Roy really the right guy for her?

Jeez, where were these thoughts coming from?

She tried to shake them off as she pulled open the door to the convenience store, dismissing it as cold feet. She'd been really stressed out because of all the wedding planning, and all the bridal magazines she'd been reading said that having some doubts was normal and to be expected.

So it was nothing, right? Just cold feet.

Perfectly normal.

Once Jim could talk again, everything would be back to normal.

--:--

She walked up to his desk, swallowed her pride, and slipped the can of Coke out of her pocket.

"Here," she said, placing it on his desk.

He gave her an intentionally blank look. Apparently, he wasn't going to let her off easy.

"Just buy it from me," she pleaded, "I haven't talked to you in hours, and it's been weird... and I really wanna know what the hell's going on with Dwight."

She nudged the can closer towards him in the most adorable way she could manage.

--:--

_Finally, a bona fide admission of affection._

Smiling, he reached into his pocket and pulled a dollar out of his wallet. Handing it to her he couldn't help but think that a dollar was a bargain for Pam's affection.

He picked up and placed the soda can back on Pam's side of the line of scrimmage.

"Hi," he said gently, as if breaking his silence too suddenly would injure him.

"Hey," she smiled one of her smiles at him.

"How much time do you have left on your break?"

"Ten minutes."

As he followed Pam into the break room, Jim couldn't help but revel a little in the glow of this minor victory. He couldn't help but think that this was proof that she needed him, and that she couldn't really live without him.

She held the kitchen door open for him, and as he held the door to the annex open for her, she favored him with a small curtsy.

He wondered if this was what Roy must feel like all the time.

Jim was in such a good mood, though, that this usual pang of jealousy didn't even sting that much. At this point, he didn't even think that Roy was a bad person. It was just so obvious that he was wrong for Pam.

And after today, despite the fact that she was marrying Roy in a little less than two months, he suspected that Pam knew it, too. Even if she didn't _know_ that she knew it, she had to be aware of the change that came over her between when she was with Roy, and when she came upstairs to share their morning caffeine fix.

You only had to be able to see her laughing as he recounted his tale of Dwight and the Coffee Cup of Urine. He just had to convince himself that she would be able to figure it out before the wedding.

Of all things, he actually found himself following Michael Scott's advice.

_Never, ever give up._

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Okay, so I'm not entirely happy with this one, but it's up. I hope you guys enjoy it, and I'll see you next time.

Next chapter: Casino Night. Yee-ha. :)


	7. Casino Night

- Chapter Seven -

Casino Night

Jim had a hard time remembering what his cards were as the dealer laid the ten of spades face up on the table. Instead, he watched Pam glance at her cards and then artfully try to conceal a smile. She was in rare form today, and she seemed to shimmer like the fabric of her dress.

Her eyes met his to see if he'd noticed her deception.

"Yeah, right," he said.

"'Yeah, right?' what?" she countered, grinning at him from across the table.

"What was this?" He imitated her failed attempt at concealment, which made her laugh out loud. It was his favorite sound in the world.

"I have good cards," she managed, with not quite a straight face.

"Really?"

"And I'm gonna take you all in..."

"Wow," he said, "I think you're bluffing."

She gave a noncommittal wave of her hand. And after a look passed between them that caused them both to giggle, he pushed the entirety of his dwindling pile of chips out onto the green felt. All he had was a pair of sevens, but it was just fun, right?

"Yeah, I think she's full of it," Kevin droned, even though he had already folded this hand.

Jim knew he would gladly lose to Pam every day for the rest of his life, as long as she kept that smile on her face. She turned over her cards.

"Straight."

"Oh," he pretended to be dejected, "Very nice."

There was a round of applause from a crowd of about three who were still watching the game to which Kevin added "Jim Halpert, ladies and gentlemen."

"Thank you very much," Jim's announced, hamming it up to the crowd and grabbing his drink, "It was fun."

Pam was practically radiating glee as she raked in his chips and put an end to his gambling career tonight.

--:--

"... have you given any more thought to the transfer?"

"Oh, yeah," he managed. It was all he'd been thinking about all week.

"Good."

Not good, in fact. He'd been tearing himself apart over this for the past several days, and he was no closer to actually making a decision than he was before the interview.

"Have you told anyone?"

"No."

"Well you should," Jan chimed.

There was a long pause as Jim stared at the pavement.

"Yeah, I think I will."

He looked over at Jan and in an attempt to shatter the awkward silence between them, he cracked one of his smiles and said, "I think I'm gonna head back inside."

"'Kay, see you later, Jim,"

Heading back inside, Jim felt suddenly worn and tired, as if all the stress of making up his mind about transferring to Stamford was finally catching up to him. He had told Jan that he'd have an answer by Monday, and it was already Friday. And "Yeah, I've thought about it" wasn't really much of an answer. He looked around and realized that suddenly he didn't really want to be here anymore. He didn't feel like being social, and Pam had already relieved him of all of his chips.

He would have to tell Pam about the transfer eventually. He owed her that much.

But not tonight. He was just too tired for that tonight. All he wanted was to zone out at home for a bit, and maybe catch the end of the Sixers game he had Tivo'ed. He could call Pam tomorrow, and tell her then. Yeah, tomorrow would be better, and if he came to her asking for advice, he might have a better perspective on what he should do.

Jim realized that he was standing in the middle of the warehouse oblivious both to the people around him and as to why he had come inside in the first place. He dug into his pocket for his keys, turned on his heel and walked right back out the door.

--:--

Jim came around the side of the building, already breathing a little easier now that he had blown off the party and was headed for home. Up ahead, he saw Roy's truck, and Pam standing next to it, talking to the driver.

_Ditching her again,_ he thought, _of course._

Not wanting to intrude, Jim walked on the narrow strip of curb that ran along the passenger side of the cars parked in the lot, forcing him to duck under the low-hanging branches. He was hoping he could hustle by unnoticed.

Naturally, just as he was sneaking past Roy's passenger-side door, the truck started up, and Pam backed away from the cab, spotting him in her periphery. Shooting her a quick, noncommittal wave, he tried to hurry on.

"Hey, Halpert," Roy called.

This just got better and better, didn't it?

"Keep an eye on her, alright?"

"Okay, will do,"

_Sure. Whatever, Roy._

"Bye," Pam waved as the never-ending fiancé drove out of sight.

She ambled over to him, and even in the horrific lighting of the parking lot, her skin and her dress caught and held the light, and her hair sent crazy highlights spinning off into the universe. He hated how she made him feel slightly off-balance, like his shoes had slanted soles.

"Hey,"

"Hey, how's it goin'?" he stalled.

"Good, especially after I took all your money in poker."

"Yeah," he tried not to look at her, because she was wearing that mischievous yet beautiful smile on her face that made him fall in love with her every time he saw it.

He guessed now was as good a time as any to tell her about his transfer, and that he might as well get it out of the way. God, why was it so hard to keep himself under control around her?

Trying his best to seem casual, he gathered his courage and went for it.

"Hey uh, could I talk to you about something?"

"About when you wanna give me more of your money?" she wasn't letting up, "Did you wanna do that now? We can go inside... I'm feelin' kinda good tonight."

"I was just, umm..." he'd lost all his momentum, and stumbled for what to say next.

He looked at her, knowing that he should mention Jan, and the interview, and the transfer... but it just wouldn't come.

And then it just came out. It was like someone else had said it, but the words just fell out of his mouth.

"I'm in love with you."

--:--

"What?"

Pam's mind played back the last five words.

_I'm in love with you_.

She looked at him, and she realized that in front of her was a Jim stripped of all his facades, who was completely vulnerable and _not_ toying with her.

"I'm really sorry if that's weird for you to hear, but I needed you to... hear it," he continued.

She fought the panic welling up in her chest.

"Probably not good timing, I know that, I just..."

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

Infuriatingly, he gave her his "Don't bullshit me, Beesly" look.

"What do you expect me to say to that?"

"I just needed you to know... once."

"Well..." she thought about the alleged crush that he'd had, and how well she thought she'd been dealing with it, "I, um..." she thought about all the times he'd supported her, cheering her up and making her laugh, "I..."

Was he having as much trouble breathing as she was?

"I can't."

She watched that one, singular negative strike him like a blow. He took a step back, his eyes dropped to the pavement between his feet, and he mumbled a "Yeah," to no one in particular, it seemed.

"You have _no_ idea..."

"Don't do that," he already knew what card she was playing.

"...what your friendship means to me," she finished. He was right, of course; it was weak and lame, but it was the best she could manage at the moment.

"C'mon," he chided, "I don't wanna do that. I want to be _more_ than that."

"I can't," she repeated.

Again, she watched it tear through him. He didn't take a step back this time, but she watched his jaw work and fight to keep the tears from coming.

"I'm really sorry," she said, and meant it, "if you misinterpreted things."

All of the so-called "innocent" flirtations that had been part of her relationship with Jim came rushing back to her, and she felt the guilt welling up within her throat. Wasn't _she_ the one that was engaged?

"It's probably my fault."

Jim shook his head. "Not your fault," and one tear slipped by Jim's defenses and crashed down his cheek.

"I'm sorry I misinterpreted, uh, our friendship."

He stepped around her and walked away, leaving her alone in the parking lot. She thought for a moment she should call after him, that perhaps there was more to say, but what was there to say?

Instead she found herself fumbling with her engagement ring, and wondering how soon it would be before she could get the damn thing off her finger.

--:--

Jim sucked in a deep shuddering breath as he turned right down the sidewalk on the far side of the chain-link fence outside Dunder-Mifflin.

_Holy shit._

Well, that answered _that_ question.

It had been more than a few months since he had gotten the idea into his head that perhaps he _wasn't_ reading all of Pam's body language incorrectly. That perhaps she _did_ feel something in return, and just couldn't (or wouldn't) articulate it because of her situation with Roy. It was a slippery slope of high hopes and dangerous expectations.

And he had just hit bottom.

He had just been so convinced that she was sending all the right signals, and that there was something there. Had he really been that crazy? Had he imagined _all_ of it?

Jim hunkered down on an empty slice of curb and tried to pull himself together.

_Yep, all in your head after all, Jim._

He thought he had been careful to not over-analyze things, to not read too much into her eager smiles and dancing eyes. He realized now how easily one could rationalize _anything_ to represent a desired outcome...

Of course, now the decision regarding the transfer was easy.

_Stamford, here I come._

To stay here in Scranton any longer would be dangerous. Both for his career and his sanity.

He sucked in another deep breath, and found that it was easier. His heart rate had returned to normal, his hands had stopped wanting to tremble, and the lump was almost gone from his throat. He should have just stuck to his plan. He should have just told Pam about the transfer and gotten out before he made things any worse for himself, or for her.

He still owed it to her to tell her about Stamford. Although at this point, he wasn't sure if he was ready to face her again tonight. He thought that maybe a simple e-mail would be enough.

Looking around, he figured he had given Pam enough time to clear out, and started walking back towards the Scranton Business Park.

--:--

Pam stood in the parking lot, feeling very small at the epicenter of the whirlwind of her emotions. She felt empty, and exposed, and

(alone)

...and vulnerable.

She wrapped her arms around herself and panned around, unsure of what to do next. She didn't want to go back to the party, and Roy had already left, assuming she would get a ride home with Angela. She had no idea when Angela was planning on leaving, but if her luck held out, it wasn't going to be anytime soon. She just wanted to get away from everyone, get some time to herself, where she wouldn't be bothered, and could think some of this stuff through.

The tiny panicked voice in her heart hadn't really quieted down, and she desperately needed to shut it up.

She headed towards the front doors of the building, secure in the knowledge that the Dunder-Mifflin offices would be vacant at this hour.

Stepping off the elevator in a daze, she started heading towards her desk, but was brought to an abrupt stop as she caught sight of the desk where Jim sat every day.

She walked over to his desk, examining the small trinkets and minor evidences of a productive workflow that littered its surface. Photos of Jim's friends and family grinned back at her. She leaned in a little to bring their faces more into focus, as if their frozen smiles would somehow give her better access to whatever answers were buried in her heart. Her fingertips brushed across the worn surface of the desk, and the realization struck her as if she had leaned on a hot stove.

This was the desk of a man who was in love with her.

There was no doubt about that. As much as Jim liked to joke around, she knew that he hadn't exaggerated his feelings for dramatic effect. As soon as he'd said it, every one of Jim's past actions confirmed it. He was head-over-heels for her.

She felt like she was getting lost inside her own mind. She needed to talk to someone. Snatching up Jim's phone, she dialed the only number she could think of.

"Hello?"

"...Hi, Mom,"

There was a silence in which Pam knew her mother was reading her voice like a book.

"Pam? Honey, is everything okay?"

"I don't know, Mom," it was almost impossible to keep her voice level.

"What happened, Pam?"

Pam knew that her mother would assume the worst unless she told her exactly what happened.

"Jim...," Pam's voice broke dangerously. She swallowed hard to try to keep herself straight.

"What about Jim?" there was audible dread in her voice.

"Jim told me that he's in love with me."

There was more silence as her mother absorbed this.

"...And?"

"And I don't know what to do," Pam said, turning around, unable to bear the staring, accusatory faces of Jim's photographs any longer.

"He just came out and said it... and it's just not fair. It's not fair of him to put me in that position. I'm getting married in four weeks, and he can't just say things like that to me," her frustration waned as she remembered the look on his face.

"I just feel so bad," her voice broke again, and she took a deep steadying breath, "He's my best friend, and I broke his heart, I basically watched it happen... I don't want to lose him as a friend, but I'm not sure how it would work after this..."

"What did you say, Pam?"

"I told him that his friendship means the world to me, but he said he needed more than that."

There was another long silence on the other end of the phone as she could feel her mother reading between the lines. Pam hated when her mother did that.

"When did all this happen?" her mother finally sighed.

"About ten minutes ago...,"

"You weren't too hard on him, were you?"

"No, I didn't know what to say..."

"Pam," her mother said, "it's perfectly normal to get cold feet,"

"Yes, I know,"

There was another pause where Pam's mother considered the alternative.

"Do you think you have any feelings for him?"

Pam's heart skipped a beat as she allowed herself to entertain the notion for a second. She just couldn't be sure that it was genuine, and not just a by-product of tonight's roller coaster of emotions.

"Um, I don't know, Mom, he's my best friend...,"

"Well, from everything you've told us about him, it seems like you two are very close,"

"Yeah, he's great,"

Her mother recognized the tone in her voice, "Are you still going to marry Roy, Pam?"

There was more to her question, as always, and she knew her mother was tenderly reminding her of all of the work and planning that had gone into the wedding already, and all of the people who would be inconvenienced by its... alteration.

"Yeah, I think I am,"

Whatever her mother said next Pam completely missed, because she saw Jim slink in the front door of Dunder-Mifflin. She was totally busted; at his desk, no less.

"Um, I have to go," she interrupted.

"Okay, call me..."

"I will," Pam put down the phone without waiting for her mother to respond.

--:--

Jim slid through the door marked "Dunder-Mifflin Paper Company" and felt his breathing catch as he saw someone standing at his desk.

"Yeah, I think I am," he heard Pam say.

He tried to detour towards the coat rack, but that was going nowhere fast. His feet betrayed him and he turned back towards Pam.

"Um, I have to go," Pam said, "I will."

Sudden resolve flooded Jim's brain. He knew it was wrong to capitalize on this situation where Pam was alone and vulnerable, and highly emotional, but he had to give this one last chance. He watched his traitorous feet walk over to her, and felt his heart pounding in his chest.

This was his own "all-in" bet. He was calling her bluff. He had to know if he was imagining it all, or if there was something real between them.

"Listen... Jim,"

All the cards were on the table, and the let the chips fall where they may.

He kissed her.

His brain screaming, and his heart racing, he pulled her close to him. He felt her hesitate at first, and then felt her defenses melt. Her hands wound through his hair as her lips came to life beneath his, pulling his mouth against hers. She was kissing him back.

He wrapped his arms around the small of her back, feeling her respond to him, and the panicked, desperate dance of her lips against his.

Their affections slowed, and they pulled back from the kiss. There was obviously a lot to talk about.

But Jim couldn't help but stare at her. His mind was completely blown at the moment, and all he could think of to say was,

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," the stupid grin on his face was probably the least cool thing he could think of.

"Me too," Pam felt a moment of terror grip her heart as she realized that was true, and then decided that, no, it _couldn't_ be true, "I think we're just drunk," she whispered conspiratorially. Any excuse would do at this point.

Jim's grin vanished and his brow furrowed.

"I'm not drunk. Are you drunk?" he hadn't tasted any alcohol on her lips.

"No," she heard herself say.

He leaned in to kiss her again.

"Jim."

She felt ill, she felt sick. Why was she doing this to herself?

Jim was still close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body. He found her hands fitting perfectly into his. She never pulled back, she never recoiled, but she looked at him with eyes brimming with apologies. He resigned himself to what was coming.

"You're really gonna marry him."

It wasn't really a question, but she nodded anyway.

"Okay."

Jim had nothing left. He'd put it all on the line and lost. With a final squeeze of her hands, he turned and walked out the door of Dunder-Mifflin Scranton.

* * *

_Author's Note -_

Phew! Finally got this one done. Okay, so I realize that this one is longer than the others (almost twice as long as the second-longest chapter in this fic), but hey, there was a lot to address in this episode. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers, and to my lovely girlfriend for pestering me to get this up :).

As for what's next, I plan on doing one or two "Interlude" chapters to address what happens over the summer before picking up again with Season Three.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and see you soon!


	8. Interlude: Pam

_- Interlude: Pam -_

She managed to keep it together on the cab ride home, watching the night-lights of Scranton flick by the window. She could feel the steel cable of anxiety twist tighter around her stomach as the cab driver pulled up to the townhome she shared with Roy. The truck was parked crookedly in the driveway, and all the windows were dark, indicating that he was probably already asleep.

She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she paid the cab driver.

--:--

In a daze, she slid into bed next to Roy, and pulled the covers over her, rolling onto her side to face away from him. As she stared into the darkness, she took in the small, intensely familiar details of her life here. Her reading glasses on the nightstand. The "Standby" LED on the front of Roy's PlayStation. The wall calendar with the days crossed out in thick black magic marker.

Her lips still tingled and buzzed from where he had kissed her. From where she had kissed him.

All of the tiny details of her life seemed unfriendly and strange to her all of a sudden; harsh and incongruous with what she wanted from her life.

Why was her life suddenly unraveling so fast?

--:--

Pam stared at the empty chair as she couldn't help but overhear the conversation Michael was having in his office. Two words Michael had said caught and held her attention. It was all she could think of.

_Jim's transferring?_

She never expected this week to be easy for either of them, and had almost been glad when he hadn't shown up for work in the morning, just so she wouldn't have to deal with any of the awkwardness.

_No, not transferring. Already transferred. It's done._

Her lungs refused to take in air.

Her throat worked without making a sound, and she took the opportunity and fake a cough so that she could excuse herself from her desk. Blessedly, the women's bathroom was empty.

--:--

On the drive home, she tried to steady her breathing. She knew this was going to be a bad experience no matter what, so she tried to focus on making it through the next few days with as much dignity, respect, and grace as possible. It was going to get worse before it got any better. Roy asked her a twice if she was okay.

"Yeah, just tired," she lied.

_Tired of my job, tired of my relationship, tired of my life._

Once she and Roy got inside, she put down her purse and sat down at the kitchen table.

Deep breath, and...

"Roy, we need to talk."

Roy looked at her from the refrigerator with a fresh beer in his hand. She watched the terror form in his eyes as he read the look on her face.

"Pammie, are you pregnant?"

She fought to hold back the wave of frustration as she choked out a quavering "No."

The relief was plain in his eyes as he came over, set his beer on the table and sat facing her.

"It can't be _that_ bad, then, can it?"

Her resolve and her spirit crumbled, and she felt her tears come again.

"Roy, I just can't do this anymore..."

--:--

The last box of stuff was finally loaded into her mom's car, and although she wasn't looking forward to living with her parents for a few weeks until she could find her own place, Pam was glad to be out of Roy's hair. It had been tough to be around him for the three days since their breakup conversation, mostly due the mood swings she had excused for way too long.

But she knew in the end that this was best for both of them.

There was so much to do now, in terms of establishing herself as an independent entity, that she had talked Michael into giving her a whopping two days off so that she could shop for a car and look for an apartment. And even though she barely had time to think, she couldn't help but wonder how Jim was doing.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Hey everybody, sorry this took so long to update. This semester has been a little crazy, and I lost the thread of the story for a while. Hopefully the next update won't take so long. Thanks for your patience!


	9. Interlude: Jim

_- Interlude: Jim -_

Jim closed his bedroom door behind him, and stood for a second in the dim umbilical glow of the lava lamp. He had somehow made it home in a numb, disconnected daze, but now the rushing swirl of emotions started creeping in on him again. Dropping his keys on his desk, he sat on the edge of his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Her kiss has been more wonderful than he had imagined, and just thinking about it made his heart race again.

Yet, at the same time, hadn't he gotten himself _out_ of something? A situation that was tearing him apart?

Pam had become the fulcrum of his day-to-day existence, and he couldn't remember how to function without her light, without her smile. Considering how late at night it was, it was with amazing sobriety that he realized the world did not revolve around Pam, and that he could learn to survive on his own again.

The white LED on the front of his laptop glowed insistently at him.

The decision was made, and he flipped open his laptop and logged into his Dunder-Mifflin e-mail.

_Dear Jan,_

_I would be happy to accept the transfer to Stamford as soon as possible. Please also let Michael know that I will be using my remaining available vacation time to make the move as quick and as smooth as possible. I will call you on Monday to work out the details._

_Sincerely,_

_Jim Halpert_

_Sales Associate_

_Dunder-Mifflin Paper Company_

-:-

He felt guilty, like he had done something wrong. But he had put this off for long enough. Almost too long, in fact. He had parked along the sidewalk across the street, rather than trying to maneuver the cumbersome U-Haul truck into the parking lot of the Scranton Business Park.

It was a brilliant and beautiful Saturday afternoon, and Jim felt very out of place in his t-shirt and jeans as he squeezed through the gap in the chain-link gate, two filing boxes in tow. He had called the security guard two days earlier, and managed to talk him into letting him on the premises just before the drive to Stamford.

Once inside, the silence was intimidating.

Flicking on the lights, Jim actually made it past her desk and towards his own. He quickly filled the two filing boxes with his personal effects and contact lists that he would need at the new position in Stamford, sorting through the various staplers and tape dispensers that actually _did _belong to the company.

He considered playing one last practical joke on Dwight, but realized that ultimately, he just wanted to get out of here.

Jim popped the lids on the filing boxes, and stacking them on top of each other, headed for the door, turning a cold shoulder to the chair she sat in every day.


End file.
